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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27788290">another graceless night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/glossmyeyes/pseuds/glossmyeyes'>glossmyeyes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Gen, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Pre-Slash, Self-Doubt, Sharing a Bed, pre-game, pretty innocent mostly, unspoken feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 01:33:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,237</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27788290</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/glossmyeyes/pseuds/glossmyeyes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Noctis becomes surprisingly emotional when intoxicated.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>another graceless night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So it’s my first ffxv fic, and I just have a lot of feelings about these boys. Thanks for reading, and go easy on me!</p><p>The title comes from a Lorde song, Perfect Places.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It’s well past midnight, and His Highness is royally smashed. Ignis can tell from where he sits on the couch by the way Noctis stumbles through the doorway when Gladio drops him off, nearly taking down an entire end table stationed by the door, vase and all. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Hey, where’d that come from,” Noctis slurs with a laugh, managing to steady both himself and the table. The vase pitches forward but Noct catches it before it can tumble to the hardwood and break. He settles it back in its proper place with a nod, seemingly satisfied.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Ignis clears his throat. The prince’s midnight eyes dart to him, taking him in for what’s likely the first time of the evening. “Specs,” he says, a lazy smile curling his pale, pink lips. “Just the man I wanted to see.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Oh, truly.” Skepticism drips from his words like honey. With his arms crossed against his chest, he’s sure he looks like a disapproving mother. “No doubt your eagerness to see me is what kept you from answering my calls all night.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Noct grins sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. “I was out.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Out, indeed. From what Gladio had reported to him, Noctis had ditched his retainers for the night and attended an illicit soiree with one Prompto Argentum. The two of them evidently dipped into the bottle, likely for the first time (on Noct’s count, at least). Such is apparent by the way Noctis sways when he approaches Ignis, not at all deterred by his glare.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He can tell Ignis means to speak because Noctis leans down and puts a finger to his lips before he can get one word out. “Just this once, Iggy. Save me the lecture.” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And perhaps it’s the way Noct’s bottom lip quivers, or the way he looks down on him with those edge-of-night eyes half-mast and pleading. Perhaps Ignis is simply tired, himself, of the ever-increasing pressure of the crown weighing on both of them. Perhaps, maybe, if he’s being honest with himself, Ignis has never been truly capable of denying his prince anything.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He can hear Gladio’s chafing voice in his head muttering about him being too soft on the boy, even as he says, resigned, “very well.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It’s everything Noctis wanted to hear, if the slow curve of his smile is to be believed. He makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat, pulling his hand away to drop down near his side. “Thanks, Ignis. You’re the best.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Ignis nods, moving to stand. “And don’t you for—“ </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Hands on his shoulders still him, quiet him, pushing him back. Noctis is suddenly in his lap, straddling him. His eyes are dark with unreadable emotion when Ignis glances to meet them in surprise. “Highness?”</span>
</p><p class="p3"><span class="s2">There’s a tremble in the hands gripping his shoulders at the regard to Noct’s title, a vulnerability in Noct’s face that rarely rears its ugly head. “Please,” he says, and his voice cracks, “don’t call me that. Not right now.” Noct lurches forward to press their foreheads together—from this close, Ignis can practically taste the way he licks his lips. “Iggy. </span> <em> <span class="s3">Ignis</span> </em> <span class="s2">. Just let me forget. Just—for a minute.” </span></p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Ignis stares at him, watches the way Noct’s eyes squeeze closed as though pained—and he is, he always has been, by his station. The expectations. The stutter in his father’s steps, worse with every passing year. Soon—sooner than any of them would like—the burden on His Majesty will crush him, and be passed on to the next in line. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Noctis.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Its inescapable, inevitable. They have always known this as a truth, a fact. Noctis will bear the weight of the Crystal once it has siphoned all the strength and life out of his father, like his father before him and so on, down the line of Lucis to the very beginning.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It’s always been there, with Noct, his whole life. The burden that only those of the line of Lucis bear.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">But Ignis is a Scientia, and his burden is otherwise. To serve the line of Lucis, to teach the crown prince, advise him, gently guide him down his destined path. He’s loyal. He knows his duty. It is not to gather the crown prince in his arms and press Noct’s pinched face to the crook of his neck with a gentle hand to the back of Noct’s head. It is not to murmur softly into Noct’s hair that he’s here, and he will always be here, as Noct’s friend above all else. It is not to wind his free arm around Noct’s lean waist and hold him closer than he should dare, letting the prince cling to him like a raft in the midst of a storm.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It is not his duty to his country, but—well. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Sometimes, Ignis thinks—with horror, with trepidation, with a fire in his heart so bright it nearly consumes him on days he lets it smolder—that the whole country, that all of Eos could go up in flames, and as long as Noctis was safe, untouched, Ignis would happily watch it burn. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Noctis,” he says, after a few quiet moments have passed, unbroken besides the ragged edge to Noct’s breathing. “Noct, let’s get you to bed.” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He gets no verbal response. The hands previously on his shoulders had been relocated to his back during the embrace, arms around his neck, and they claw at his now-rumpled shirt gently but desperately, as though Noct can’t stand to pull away. No matter, then.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Ignis is careful as he readjusts his limbs, the better to cradle the drunken prince to his body and spirit him off to the bedroom. Noctis clings to him, legs wound tight around his waist, face still buried in his shoulder as though to hide from the world.He doesn’t let go until they reach the bed, where he allows Ignis to gently settle him on the mattress to lay on his side. Can’t very well have the Crown Prince of Lucis choke on his own vomit and perish were he to be sick during the night.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Ignis makes a mental note to retrieve the waste basket from the bathroom for such purposes as he sits down on the edge of the bed, his long, slender fingers reaching out to brush dark strands of hair away from Noct’s watching eyes. “I’d rather you brush your teeth and dress for bed, but for now, let’s try and get some rest. I’ll bring you some water in a moment.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Noctis hums, noncommittal, though in the pale light of the moon pouring in from the open window Ignis can see the reflection of gratitude in his eyes. And something else, too. Something inquiring, something warm. Ignis feels the heat of them on his face, searching for answers to what Ignis can’t begin to guess the questions of. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Noct?” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Ignis,” he begins, wetting his lips again with his tongue—a nervous habit shown only in his most vulnerable moments. The stark openness of his face is almost overwhelming to witness, compared to his usual schooled indifference. “Ignis, do you love me?” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Taken aback, Ignis frowns. “I most certainly do, Noctis. You know this.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"><span class="s2">“No, I know—I do, I <em>know</em>, but...” With detached horror, Ignis notices the sudden wetness to Noct’s gaze, threatening to spill over his lashes. “You love me for </span> <span class="s3"><em>me</em>, </span> <span class="s2">right?” The lonely boy he truly is lingers behind his words, pleading for love, for acceptance. “Not because—because I’m the prince? Because you have to?”</span></p><p class="p2">Ignis wonders, distantly, in some dark corner of his reeling mind, how long Noctis has sat with this question brewing in his chest. He prides himself on knowing Noct’s needs before he voices them, sometimes before he even realizes he has them, and this tastes like failure, bitter and stinging like acid in his mouth. How could Noct think that? How could he not <em>know</em>?</p><p class="p2">He’s quiet for a touch too long, enough that Noct’s breath hitches, close to gasps. An anxiety attack, then, or the beginnings of one at least. Ignis knows that the closet in the hallway holds a bottle of anti-anxiety meds with Noct’s name on them, but he’s been drinking tonight. They’ll have to do this without medication, then.</p><p class="p2">“Noctis,” he says, softly. Noct shudders, lips closing around a whimper. “Please, breathe. Slower. In through your nose and out through your mouth.” Ignis works him through the first few cycles until he’s satisfied with the steady rise and fall of Noct’s chest. “Very good. Again.”</p><p class="p2">Companionable silence shrouds them as the prince controls his breath and Ignis gathers his thoughts. At some point, absently, their palms meet and fingers twine together. They haven’t held hands since they were children, and it’s hardly proper, but Ignis is loathe to deny him this small comfort.</p><p class="p2">“I must apologize,” he says at last, when Noct seems calmer. “I hadn’t realized you doubted my affection for you.”</p><p class="p2"><span class="s2">“Not </span> <span class="s3"><em>doubt</em>, </span> <span class="s2">just—“ A growl of frustration cuts the air between them. “I never would have met you if I wasn’t the prince. And I’m grateful that I have you, but—I want—I just...” Noctis laughs humorlessly. Something seems to loosen in him, and it all comes pouring out. “I’m a <em>mess</em>, Iggy. I have all this shit to rise to, and I don’t even know if I <em>want</em> any of it, and I feel like I’m disappointing everyone all the time—you, Gladio, Luna, my <em>dad</em>—and I’m...what if I don’t live up to the expectations? What if I’m not the prince everyone wants me to be? What if I’m...just me?”</span></p><p class="p2">Their eyes meet, and Ignis feels his heart break in two. There is so much love in him for this man, this reluctant future king, that he can hardly contain it. Ignis holds his breath, swallows down the desperate words that threaten to burst through the barrier of his lips. He smiles as reassuringly as he can, giving the hand still joined with his a gentle squeeze.</p><p class="p2">Yes, Noctis is bratty. He is messy; he is sullen; he is often ungrateful, withdrawn, and perpetually childish after being forced to grow up too soon.</p><p class="p2">But he is also the sweetest person Ignis has ever known. Though he hides behind a carefully constructed mask of indifference, Ignis knows that he cares a great deal for his country and the people of the world. He will be a kind leader, generous and fair. Ignis has complete faith that he will be the person the world needs when he ascends to the throne. He’s not ready, not yet, but he will be.</p><p class="p2">“You are not perfect, Noct. Nobody is.”</p><p class="p2">“Except you,” Noctis says, a small smile peeking through the storm clouds on his face.</p><p class="p2">“Hardly.” Ignis pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his free hand, feeling a faint flush rise to his cheeks. “I have my faults just as you do. As anyone does. And I may not have the weight on my shoulders that you do, but I am not without pressure. I understand, Noctis, and I assure you, it’s perfectly normal to feel the way that you do. It’s an enormous responsibility, and I’m very proud of you for taking it seriously. We all are, I’m certain. We see you strive to be better, and that’s what matters most. You’re moving forward.”</p><p class="p2">Noctis is thoughtful, letting his words sink in. Perhaps he won’t take them to heart yet, but Ignis is confident that he’ll get there. “Thanks, Specs,” he says after a moment, a shy grin lightening his features.</p><p class="p2">“No trouble at all,” Ignis replies. “And to circle back to your earlier question—I love you for <em>who</em> you are, not <em>what</em> you are. I always have.” The grin Noct is wearing turns beaming, and Ignis’ heart stutters.</p><p class="p2">“I know. I love you, too.”</p><p class="p2">With his prince’s heart unburdened for the moment, Ignis fetches him a tall glass of water and makes sure to see him drink it down before he leaves him to sleep, the emptied waste basket strategically placed aside Noct’s side of the bed in case of stomach upset. He’s just about to the doorway after bidding him goodnight when Noct’s soft, sleepy voice halts him, calling out his name. He turns back to the prince, expectant.</p><p class="p2">“Yes?”</p><p class="p2">A lump under the covers after finally settling in for the night, Noct fingers the hem of his dark blanket. “Will you stay?”</p><p class="p2">“I was planning to, yes.”</p><p class="p2">“No,” says Noct, “I meant...will you sleep in here? With me?”</p><p class="p2">There are a thousand reasons why he should say no, and Ignis means to, but the look of open hopefulness on his prince’s face gives him pause. “...Very well,” he agrees, padding over to the bed and climbing in to the open spot on Noct’s left once he’s removed his glasses and set them aside. No sooner than he’s settled on his back does Noct snuggle in beside him, head resting above the place where Ignis’ heart now beats a frantic tattoo against his ribcage.</p><p class="p2">“Goodnight, Ignis,” he whispers, tone of voice that of one already on the edge of sleep. He’s out before the end of his next breath, perhaps lulled to dreams by the rhythm of a heartbeat beneath him.</p><p class="p2">“...goodnight, Noct,” Ignis murmurs, his arm coming up to rest across his prince’s shoulders. “Sweet dreams.”</p>
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